


misuse of magic

by bereft_of_frogs



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, M/M, Magic, Nightmares, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Pre-Thor (2011), Protective Thor (Marvel), Rape/Non-con Elements, Sakaar (Marvel), Sex Magic, Shapeshifter Loki (Marvel), Shapeshifting, Thor (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Unhealthy Relationships, teenage relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 17:33:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16896960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bereft_of_frogs/pseuds/bereft_of_frogs
Summary: Magic is a powerful tool. There are consequences for its misuse.Part I: Overuse  ~3.3k wordsEvery young mage goes through a phase, where ordinary things just seem too dull to be done any way but with magic. (Thor slips one day at the breakfast table, just after Ultron, and brings up a subject many of the Avengers would rather ignore. It’s just that Wanda reminds him a little too much of someone.)Part II: Sharing ~7.2k wordsA young mage intrigues Loki and they begin a relationship, but there’s something she wants from him. (The same thing that, many centuries later, the Grandmaster wants. This time, Loki isn’t so willing to give it up.)[These are two very different stories, both centered around the misuse of magic, both using a past incident to illuminate a future. See the chapter notes for which tags apply to which chapter.]





	1. Overuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part I: Overuse  
> ~3.3k words
> 
> Set pre-Thor (Loki, about 9; Thor, about 13) / post-Age of Ultron (where Thor and Clint stick around a bit longer in the aftermath)
> 
> Every young mage goes through a phase, where ordinary things just seem too dull to be done any way but with magic. (Thor slips one day at the breakfast table, just after Ultron, and brings up a subject many of the Avengers would rather ignore. It’s just that Wanda reminds him a little too much of someone.) 
> 
> Tags: Grief/Mourning, death of a sibling, shapeshifting, nightmares

“They forgot a knife for the bread,” Odin remarks. “Call back the servant-” But Loki is already holding out his hand and, with a flash of green light, a bread knife materializes in his palm. Thor rolls his eyes.    

“Loki, no magic at the dinner table,” Their mother scolds idly.

 

Thor is walking, minding his own business in the courtyard, when suddenly there is a fluttering of feathers and his brother materializes before him.

“Oops!” Loki says, stumbling into him. “Apologies, I seem to have misjudged the landing.” Thor presses a hand to his thundering heart.    

“Where did you even come from?!” He cries. Loki points up. Thor follows his gesture to the top of the stairs to the library. “You couldn’t just _walk?_ ”  
   

Thor knocks into the desk. It seemed as though he was always knocking into things these days, his body growing fast and in unpredictable ways. He was clumsier than he used to be, but his father assured him he would become accustomed to his body again soon enough, stronger and more agile than ever before.   

The reassurance does not help now when he feels like a lumbering bilgesnipe half the time.    

A jar of water was placed too close to the edge of the table. His jostling knocks it off, and he braces for the shattering of glass. It never comes.    

Green light instead wraps around the jar and the water alike. Thor turns to see his brother, brow furrowed in concentration. He twists his hands and the water flow back into the jar, and it rights itself on the table. The green light vanishes.    

“Show off,” Thor accuses. Loki’s smile is wicked as he raises his hands and Thor’s messy room suddenly folds itself together, becoming more organized and neat than it has been in weeks. Loki laughs and vanishes from the doorway.  
   

It had been months of this. Months of Loki’s obsession with his magic. When he was a small child, his lack of control had been cute. He would shapeshift into forms at a whim, terrifying their nursemaids, conjure lights to coo at, float things to himself when he was too small to walk to them. Thor had thought it was quite adorable then, had delighted in having such a magical baby brother to play with. He would come up with things to make Loki materialize, and little crude illusions of toys and animals would follow the princes around the palace.   

Now he just found it annoying.    

Loki never just _walked_ anywhere anymore. They would be talking together and suddenly Thor is speaking to the air, his brother having teleported off without a word. He tidies his room with his nose still in his book, not even watching as his magic makes his bed, reorganizes his shelves. He couldn’t pick up an object in their rooms without fear of it being enchanted in some way. The shapeshifting was the worst. Any random animal lurking about the palace could be Loki and Thor still had no idea how to tell the difference.    

(He also doesn’t know which is worse; _not_ realizing an animal was Loki and falling for his trick, or believing an animal to be Loki when it was not. He had once been having a very stern conversation with a mallard by the pond when Fandral found him and informed him he had just left Loki in the library. But at least with the latter, he is not likely to walk away with any stab wounds.)    

It would be perhaps better if Loki was just an arrogant and annoying fully trained sorcerer. But as a fledgling mage, he also didn’t have sufficient control of his powers to avoid the spells failing. He dropped things constantly, his little ‘oops!’ trailing after him wherever he went. His aim with teleportation was constantly off. More than once Thor had caught him in midair when he materialized several feet higher above the ground than he intended.    

“I swear, by the Nine, Loki!” He growls, as Loki tumbles into his arms. “What will happen if you miss your mark and fall off a cliff?”   

“I will transform into a bird and fly away,” He says simply. Thor lets him down.    

“You are going to drive me mad, I swear, brother.”  
   

Their mother finally becomes involved during a certain incident that results in Thor being soaked in ice cold water and nursing a bump on his head.

“Loki, enough!” She scolds, picking up the bucket off the floor. “I have indulged you thus far, but this is getting out of hand. You are going to get yourself or your brother seriously hurt if you keep this up. You must think of your magic as a tool, one to be used with careful consideration. Not to be thrown around like a toy. You are becoming far too powerful and you lack discipline. We will work on this lesson until I feel you have sufficiently learned it. No spells, no shifting, no conjuring until I tell you you may, is that clear?”    

“Yes, Mother,” Loki says, looking at the floor.  
   

He’s sulking when he returns to their shared quarters the next night.    

“But it’s so boring!” He complains. “It’s just sitting quietly, and keeping my magic all tied up inside when it just wants to be let out.”   

“Isn’t that supposed to be the lesson? To not let it out?”   

“I want to let it out,” Loki says grumpily. “It’s not fair, you never get in trouble for calling the storm.”

Thor had never called the storm _inside the palace_ , he thinks to himself. And he’d never been _this_ bad, had he? “Will Mother still let you come with us to the lake tomorrow?”   

“As long as I don’t use any magic, she made me promise. She says she can sense it when I do and if I use it without her permission she’ll confine me to the palace until midwinter.” He sighs and flops down on Thor’s bed. “It’s not _fair_.” Thor smiles in amusement.    

“Since when have you ever cared about _fair_ , little brother?” Thor pounces on him, pinning him to the bed and tickling his sides. “Especially since you’re always the worst cheat in our games.” Loki giggles and squirms beneath him.    

“Thor, stop!” He hits at Thor’s arms, but Thor is much stronger and relentless.    

All of a sudden, with a flash of magic, Loki turns into a cat beneath him. Both princes are frozen in surprise. The cat blinks up at Thor slowly. Loki moves to bolt but Thor manages to catch him.    

“Mother said no shifting,” Thor tells the cat sternly. Loki mews and tries to butt his little head against Thor’s hand. “Don’t try it. You’ll get no sympathy from me.” Loki changes back into his usual form, springing from Thor’s arms.    

“Don’t tell Mother!” He gasps, eyes wide and shocked. “I didn’t mean to!”  
   

This new development - shifting without appearing to mean to - was disturbing. After a bit of begging, Thor agrees not to tell their mother, but quietly vows to go to her if it got worse. The shock of the unintended transformation does turn Loki into a model pupil. He goes to lessons with their mother demure and studious, and she notices nothing amiss.  
   

Until the argument.  
   

Thor doesn’t even really recall how it started. He thinks it might have been over a missing tunic, later to be found underneath his bed, making Loki’s accusations the truth.    

“You’re always _moving_ my things!” Loki shouts at him. “Stay in your room and leave mine _alone!_ ”   

“Loki, I haven’t touched your things, why would I even want to, you’re just forgetful and foolish and have got your nose too far in a book to notice anything else that’s going on.”    

“I’m the fool? You who wouldn’t touch a book even if it were to save your own life-” Insults fly back and forth. As the argument escalates, Thor _does_ touch a book, to throw it at Loki’s head.    

As the book flies across the room towards his brother, it freezes in midair.    

The mirror explodes.        

“Loki! Stop this!” Loki doesn’t respond, looking at his own hands with alarm. Green light, wild and untamed power, spills from him. Quickly, Thor realizes it’s beyond Loki’s control. The window goes next, sending shards of glass flying.    

“Thor, _help me!”_ He cries, falling to his knees. “I can’t, I _can’t_ -” He sobs and the light twists his frame. He’s a cat again, a snake, a bird, back to himself. Cycling through forms without pausing in any for more than a moment.    

“Loki, calm down,” Thor forces himself to swallow down panic. “You have to stay calm.”    

“I _can’t!”_ He cries and it turns into a roar. Their common room dissolves into chaos, the magic making books and pillows and clothes swirl around them. Thor fights through the debris to his brother, still unable to hold his shape.    

“It’s okay, Loki,” He says, holding out a hand as if to calm a skittish animal. Which, he was, as Loki becomes a whimpering, trembling dog. Then a cat again, a seal, a rabbit. The next time Loki is himself, looking at Thor with terrified green eyes, Thor seizes him, snatching him into his arms and holding him fast. He does not stop shifting, he cannot, but Thor holds on through the transformations, closing his eyes and squeezing. It is the first time he has ever felt real fear of magic.    

Loki’s transformations slow. The whirling objects drop to the floor. Thor is finally left with a trembling cat in his arms. Thor, himself still shaking, strokes the cat that is his brother.    

“It’s alright,” He whispers. “It’s alright, Loki, don’t be afraid.” The cat digs its claws into the fabric of his shirt, catching some of his skin as well. Thor doesn’t mind. Thor just holds onto the cat, pressing his face into its fur, and holds onto the delusion that he could protect his brother like this.  
   

Eventually, when they both calm a bit, he carries Loki to their mother. She lets them both collapse into her arms like they were small again, crying. Loki had exhausted his reserves of magic in the uncontrolled outburst, and is not in danger of doing so again. She teaches him control, and before the year is out, both had entirely forgotten all about Loki’s little phase.  
  
Until Thor had to deal with another young mage, and objects flying about unexpectedly around the room.  
  
  
  
The coffeecup narrowly misses Steve’s head, instead smashing into the wall with a trail of red magic in its wake.   

“Oops!” Wanda cries. “Sorry!” Steve just sighs and fetches a broom.  
   

“Kid…what are you doing?” Clint asks. Wanda glances behind her, turning away from the spinning loop of books.    

“…juggling?” The moment of distraction breaks the spell and the books tumble to the floor.    

“Right,” Clint says slowly. “Need help picking those up?”  
   

The smoke detector beeps insistently. Wanda stamps on the curtains, desperately putting out the small fire. Natasha steps nimbly onto a chair to silence the device, then opens the window to let the smoke dissipate.    

She turns back to Wanda with a raised eyebrow.    

“I was trying to light a candle?”  
   

In the weeks following Ultron’s attempted destruction of Earth, the Avengers settle into their new compound. Those that are planning to stay on more permanently claim quarters and move their things and begin to build a life for themselves. 

Thor remains in a plain guest room, trying to decide where to go next. He knows he must begin seeking out the Stones. They remain a presence in the back of his mind, questions and mysteries that nag at him. He might go see Jane first. He thinks for a moment of going back to Asgard to seek advice, but the thought is banished as soon as he has it. Asgard holds too much grief for him to return now.    

Not that the Avengers compound does not equally contain grief. Though it is not his own this time, it is similar enough and Wanda’s untamed and uncontrolled magic makes her grief bleed all over the compound. Especially at night, when her nightmares spread, infecting the rest of their dreams. Thor frequently wakes from nightmares in which the sky falls on him, bombs raining down, and he’s chasing after a shadowy figure whose hair shifts from silver to black and back again.    

The sleepless nights not enough, they are all slowly driven crazy by her discovering her magic and what it could do. Floating mugs and books are merely the start. Her hands touch nothing for a week, everything she needs to pick up she does so with a glow of red magic and a delighted smile.

Steve voices concern one afternoon.    

“I don’t know anything about…magic,” He says to Thor and Natasha. “But could it be dangerous?”    

“It could be,” Thor responds. “But I wouldn’t be too concerned. It’s just a phase. And it brings her joy.”   

“The only time she’s been smiling lately is when she’s using magic.”    

“It’s just…unsettling,” Steve says at the same time Thor says “irritating.” They grin at each other.    

“She’s just testing the limits of her power. She’ll grow out of it.”    

Three nights in a row, Wanda’s nightmares spill over into theirs. The first two are of Sokovia, the death of Pietro Maximoff on a loop in their heads. The day after the second cycle of nightmares, Clint in particular looks exhausted and guilt-ridden.    

On the third night, the dream shifts. A cold wind blows away the wreckage of Sokovia until there is nothing left but ruins and sand. There are no bullets this time. Just a long blade, plunging through his chest.    

Thor gasps awake, on his feet in a second. When he closes his eyes, he can feel a heavy weight in his arms, see another face before his eyes. He sits on the edge of the bed, worn down with renewed grief and does not sleep for the rest of the night.    

He does not weep, but sits and wallows in his failure to protect those he cares about.  
   

The day dawns bright and clear. At breakfast, everyone tries to act normal, though there is a certain tension in the air, an underlying weariness permeating the small group around the table.    

Breakfast dishes float around them on sparkling red light.    

“Hey, kiddo,” Clint says, sounding exhausted. “Be careful with those, I don’t want to have to explain to Stark why we have to buy all new plates.”   

“I will be careful,” Wanda says, catching one in her palm. “Don’t worry.” Breakfast continues to float around them as Thor slowly drinks down his cup of coffee, caught up in his own thoughts and only half paying attention to his surroundings.    

A crash of metal. A frying pan clips the edge of the table, falling to the floor and spilling eggs everywhere with an almighty crash. Thor’s temper boils over.   

“I swear by the Nine, Loki, if you do not _cease_ throwing your magic around, I will-” The words are no sooner out of his mouth than he realizes what he has done.    

The room is dead silent. Wanda’s eyes are wide with surprise. Clint looks furious. No one moves. The air leaves Thor’s lungs in a long exhale.    

“Excuse me,” He says, rising and turning his back without looking at them further.  
   

He sits outside on the steps, head in his hands, trying to stop the flood of memories. Memories of a simpler time. He feels her approach before he hears it.    

“I’m sorry,” He says. He takes a deep breath. “I apologize for losing my temper, Ms. Maximoff.” He does not apologize for calling her _Loki_. Apologizing for it would be acknowledging he had done it.    

“It is alright. I am sorry for startling you.” He sighs.    

“Come sit.” She sits next to him on the step. “This…phase you’re going through, it’s normal. Every sorcerer I’ve ever known, when they realize what exactly their magic could do, passes through a time where they draw upon it for every little thing. Because why wouldn’t they? Why do things as mundane as walk across the room to fetch a plate when they could simply call one to them?” Wanda looks chastised. “I don’t say this to scold. I’m trying,” He sighs again. “I’m trying to explain. My brother…he was the _worst._ ” He can’t help but smile a little. “He used magic for everything. Shapeshifting into a bird instead of walking downstairs, summoning knives and forks and napkins instead of walking to the kitchens to get them. Making his bed with a wave of his hand. It drove me _mad_. He grew out of it, like they all do. But the way you’ve been using magic lately…this morning I was suddenly centuries in the past. And that is why I called you Loki.”    

“I understand. I didn’t blame you.” Thor snorts.    

“The others do.” She shrugs. “They only knew him…the way he was at the end. They don’t understand how…clever and foolish and brave he used to be. They do not understand why I mourn that who they only ever saw as a villain.” He takes a shaking breath.    

“Does it get any easier?” Wanda whispers, a tear dripping down her cheek.    

“I hope so. There are days when I can put it from my mind, others when I wake only with the thought that I am facing thousands of years without him. Thousands of years to live with the knowledge that I failed to protect him, and he died to save my life.   

“And that is why I did not say anything before. It seemed you were finally reveling in your magic, finding light in the darkness. But I should tell you to be careful of how dependent you become on your power. It can overwhelm you if you are not diligent at controlling it.” He tells her then, of the climax of Loki’s overuse of magic.    

“How did you stop it?” She asks.    

“I held him until he exhausted himself and his form stabilized, then I carried him to our mother. She was able to further calm him until he got himself under control. He learned that hard way that using magic for everything makes it far to easy to draw upon when you are not meaning. To overtake you. She helped him learn to manage his power and he grew to be one of the most careful and controlled sorcerers I’ve never known.”    

“I don’t know how to start.”    

“I wish I could help you. To be honest, I had little time for magic growing up. I didn’t learn enough to truly be of assistance to you. My power is nothing like my brother’s seidr, or your magic. I will say, I believe simple breathing and concentration exercises should help, as well as learning not to reach for it automatically.”    

“And how do I stop it from spreading in my sleep?” Thor smiles sadly.   

“So you know about that as well?”

She forms a ball of red in the palm of her hand. “I could see the others’ nightmares in my mind as well. Feel their pain.” She banishes the ball. “Yours makes me feel like…a black hole has opened in my chest.” A sucking void, opening out into stars.    

“I think it might be best if I take my leave for a while. After all, the Infinity Stones are still out there. I still must find them. And I perhaps am making all this worse for you. I look forward to seeing you again someday, Ms. Maximoff. I believe your powers have considerable potential. You may do great things.” He rises, turning to go back inside to inform Steve of his intention to depart.    

“Thor,” She says. “I hope you find what you’re looking for. I hope things get better.”

Thor smiles sadly. “For you as well, Ms. Maximoff.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing like reminding everyone you're showing up three years late to the fandom with Starbucks like posting a pre-Thor / post-Age of Ultron fic the day the new trailer drops. A+ me. 
> 
> Yes, I was thinking of the Ballad of Tam Lin when I was writing Loki's little shapeshifting freakout ;-)


	2. Sharing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II: Sharing  
> ~7k words
> 
> Set pre-Thor (Loki, about 15; Thor, about 19) / during Thor: Ragnarok 
> 
> A young mage intrigues Loki, but there’s something she wants from him. (The same thing that, many centuries later, the Grandmaster wants. This time, Loki isn’t so willing to give it up.)
> 
> Tags/Warnings: unhealthy relationship, dubious consent, sexual assault, rape/non-con elements, dubiously consensual drug use, use of magic during sex, teenage relationship

“This new tunic itches,” Thor hisses to him. “They made it of wool again, they know I hate wool.”    

“Sh!” Loki shoots back. “I’m not getting in trouble again for talking because of you!”    

“Ugh, fine.” Thor shifts again, tugging at his shirt. “How much longer?”    

“Why do you think I would know better than you how much longer?”    

“Boys!” Frigga glares at them, shaking her head slightly. They both silence, Loki shooting his brother a look that says ‘see?’    

“The final group, your majesty,” The steward says. “The students, here to use Asgard’s library and receive lessons in magic from the tutors.”    

Among the five young mages brought before the king and queen, there is a girl with soft brown hair and clear blue eyes. As Odin greets them, questions their chaperone about the kinds of magic they have studied so far on their travels, she glances at the princes and blushes. For a moment, Loki thinks she’s blushing at Thor, like they all do, but the next time she looks over at them their eyes meet and his heart skips a beat.

His face feels hot and he looks away.  
   

Thor flops on his bed, coming into his room uninvited once they’re finally released from the hall. (With only mild scolding from their mother.)    

“Why must we stand? When we were children they let us sit.”    

“I think it has something to do with looking imposing.” Loki sits at his desk. “You know how Father is always going on about our appearance, and our posture, looking impressive, etc, etc…”    

“Well, you certain need work on your posture. Bent over all those books, you’re going to be as stooped as an old woman before your coming-of-age.” Thor rolls onto his stomach, looking at his brother intently.    

“What?”    

“I’d thought you’d be babbling away about the new mages by now. They’re to be your classmates for the next three months, after all.”    

“And yours as well.”    

“Just for the general subjects. You’ll spend the entire day with them. The girl with the brown hair looked especially… _interested_.” Loki desperately wishes his brother was as obtuse as all the rumors said. He is entirely too observant.   

Loki throws a book at his head as Thor laughs and laughs. Loki’s face turns deep red and he ignores Thor’s teasing.  
   

Their first day of classes starts uneventfully. Thor is too tired to tease, and Loki spends the morning studiously focused on the lesson, and not the new mages. At midday, Thor disappears to go have lunch with the Warrior’s Three, leaving Loki alone in the gardens.    

“May I sit, your highness?” Loki carefully schools his face.    

“Of course,” He says. “And you needn’t call me ‘your highness’ all the time. Loki is fine.” The girl smiles.    

“And you may call me Svala, your highness.”  
   

Falling in love at his age is like falling off a cliff.    

Loki had had only a few crushes throughout his teenage years. Svala feels different. They have similar interests, similar personalities, and they quickly become inseparable, spending all their time chattering away about magic and their lives and their secrets.    

“I feel as though I never see you anymore,” Thor complains one night. He’d snuck to a tavern outside of the city with Sif and Fandral and slipped into Loki’s room when they returned, waking him.    

“You’re seeing me now, when I’m trying to sleep,” Loki complains, turning his face into the pillow.    

“I’m just worried about you, brother.” Loki kicks at him.    

“Why would you be worried?”   

“She’s going to have to leave in two months.” He sighs.    

“We _know_ that, why will you not let me have my fun while I can?”    

“Have your fun? Oh, have you been having fun, dear brother?” Loki hits him with a pillow.    

“I will tell Mother and Father about your own little adventures.”    

“Peace, Loki, I was just teasing.”  
   

The first time they make love, it’s in an unused stable. They lay in the straw after, clothes and hair astray.    

“You’re lovely,” Svala says, tracing a circle on his hipbone. “Such a princely lover.” Loki laughs.    

“Have you made love to many princes?”    

“Hm, I do believe you are my first prince. Not my first mage, of course, but my first prince.”    

“I’ve never had sex with another mage before. Though it does not seem too different.” Svala smiles.    

“You’ll see.”    

They make love a second time, chasing a higher crest of pleasure than Loki has ever felt, and he thinks that’s what she meant.  
   

Storm clouds gather, and jealousy rears it’s head.    

“Helgi? Really?” Loki raises his eyebrow when Svala reveals she had had a relationship with one of the other students in her group.    

“Yes, it was…tumultuous. But he’s not a bad lover.” Loki looks across the garden at Helgi, surrounded by the other mages. He seemed the ringleader of their little group, tall and haughty. Loki could not deny that he was attractive, with short dark hair and sharp features.    

“Hm.”    

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Svala laughs and kisses the corner of his mouth. “Don’t be jealous.”  
   

That night, they’re making love when Svala stops him.    

“Don’t you want to go deeper? Be even more connected?”   

“Yes,” He whispers back, brain fogged with lust and pleasure. “ _Yes_ ,” He moans as she rocks their hips.    

“We can be closer than anyone you’ve ever been with before.”   

“How? How could we be any closer?” She tells him.    

“It’s the best way to prove we love each other. To prove you care for me.” Still he hesitates.    

“You want…my seidr?”   

“It feels so good, you have no idea. Like the other person’s soul is inside you.” She squeezes around him and his head swims with the intensity of the pleasure.    

“I thought,” He pants. “I thought that it was wrong-”   

“Just prudish adults, telling us what to do with our bodies and our magic.” She pouts a little. “Helgi and I did this all the time.” A twinge of jealous, insecurity.    

“Alright. Show me how?”

She tells him how to unloosen the bounds of magic within him, to allow her into himself. They set a rhythm, rocking together as she pulls threads of his magic within her. She tosses her head back, her moans growing in volume, breath coming short.    

He looks at her beneath him and thinks she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. But the sensation of her inside the core of his magic feels odd, somewhat invasive. She orgasms with a brutal tug of his seidr. As her walls pulse around him, he follows her over the edge, spilling with a grunt. He collapses onto her chest and they fight to catch their breath.    

“Oh, Loki,” She moans, wrapping her arms around his back. “I love you. Oh, gods.” She shivers. “Gods.” She sounds so enraptured that Loki feels a swell of pride despite the still unnameable, sinking feeling he has at the sensation of his seidr being shared with another.  
   

“Are you alright?” Thor asks at breakfast the next day. “You look pale.”   

“You always say that,” He says, picking at his food. He’s _exhausted_ , and internally wailing at the thought of a full day of lessons. His magic feels thin and stretched and he doesn’t know how he’s going to face practicing in the afternoon.    

“You’re paler than usual.”    

“Well, it was a…late night.” He conjures what he hopes is a rakish smile. Thor laughs, voice booming. He claps Loki on the back and lets the conversation drop.  
   

Loki barely makes it through lessons, and collapses into bed when they're over.  
   

After dinner, which makes him feel a little more normal, he seeks out Svala.    

“Oh, if you’re not used to it, it can be tiring at first,” She says. “After my first time, I could barely cast for a week. But you adapt, and it becomes…so… _so_ good. I can show you.” She kisses him, slipping a hand between his thighs, and a spark of seidr passes into her. He yelps and does feel a pulse of arousal in his groin. Her hand moves in smooth pulses and he hardens as more sparks of magic pass between them.    

It does feel good, but is it the magic or the steady grip on his cock? He can’t be sure and the transfer of magic makes _her_ so happy he no longer protests.    

The magic transfer becomes a regular part of their lovemaking. It’s normal now, and he finds himself yielding to her almost automatically, as soon as their bodies connect. He still feels tired and drained and with the frequency of their sex, that exhaustion becomes constant. His teachers are starting to notice and he forces himself to behave normally so they will not report his exhaustion to his parents.    

Equally, the uneasiness grows. It feels good, but there is still the uncertainty in his chest that grows with each encounter. He starts to name it; it feels like violation. He tells himself it’s just because he’s not accustomed to this level of intimacy. Most of his sexual relationships thus far have been quick infatuations, flames of passion that burn out quickly. He’s never had sex with one person this many times, or with someone who he feels so connected with. He’s simply not used to this intimacy, as she said about his exhaustion.    

Despite this self-reassurance, there’s one night in particular that Svala takes more than he was expecting. It makes his magic feel like an ache in his chest. He bathes and dresses in his nightclothes, feeling unusually teary and sensitive. On his way back to his room from the baths, he pauses and turns the other way.    

Thor stirs when he slips beneath the covers. “Loki?” He murmurs. “What is it, what’s wrong?”    

“Nothing,” He whispers quickly into the darkness. “Can I sleep here?”   

“‘Course.” He throws an arm over Loki’s body and pulls him close, quickly falling back to sleep. Loki remains awake for a long time, soaking in the familiarity and comfort of his brother’s smell, the warmth of his body next to him, and the sound of his soft snores.  
   

“What was going on last night?” Thor asks him over breakfast. Loki shrugs. “You haven’t come to sleep with me in ages. Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”   

“Nothing’s wrong, Thor,” He says, voice tight. “Leave it.”    

“Okay,” Thor says after a long pause. Going to Thor had been a mistake. Loki feels his eyes on him throughout the day, especially when he eats lunch with Svala in the garden.    

They fight that night about it.    

“Did you tell him?” Svala is furious. “That’s _secret_ , that’s _private_ , no one deserves to know what goes on in our bed.”   

“I swear, I said nothing. Svala, I wouldn’t-”    

“Then why was he questioning me earlier? He was asking me about what we did together, why would he-”    

“Who knows what whims pass through my brother’s head, but I swear-”   

She kicks him out. He goes back to his room, seething with anger at Thor. In the darkness, the anger fades to that crushing loneliness that sometimes threatens to drown him.    

He can’t _take_ being alone. He hates it, that gaping hole in his chest.    

He will do anything to win Svala back.  
   

She does forgive him, and their affair resumes the next night. He is relieved to be back in her favor, and the discomfort he feels when she draws on his magic is nothing compared to the loneliness.  
   

Three nights later, he returns to his rooms to change after a formal dinner to find his mother sitting at his desk, still dressed in her gown.    

“Come in, Loki,” She says. “I must speak with you.” He feels suddenly like he is in trouble and his heartbeat increases.    

“Of course, Mother,” He says. “What of?”   

“Your tutors are worried about you,” She says. “As is your brother. You seem to be spending all your time with that girl, such that you neglect your studies and run yourself into exhaustion.”

Loki feels a flash of rebellion. “I am doing nothing that Thor has not done a thousand times before, why is it a matter of _concern_ when I finally have someone I care about?”

She looks at him with a sharp and piercing gaze and he cows. She touches his cheek. “You must be careful, dear one. You may feel strong emotion for her, but you are still young. We just don’t want to see you get hurt.”    

“I understand.” She kisses his forehead and leaves him. Loki thinks he has managed to deflect her.  
   

But the next night, he comes in and finds her again, this time with Thor as well, who does not look at him.    

Frigga looks furious, a storm on her face. “Shut the door, Loki,” She says and his heart sinks. He complies.    

“What is this? What’s going on?”    

“Your brother has been telling me some very interesting things. Very interesting rumors he’s heard, among the young ones.”

He glances at Thor, who is still looking at the floor. “And what rumors would those be?”   

“About your behavior. Your acts with a certain fellow student.”    

“You’ve never been concerned when Thor’s the one sleeping through half the palace staff-” The slap comes from nowhere. Frigga has never, _never_ struck them before, but suddenly his cheek is stinging and tears are filling his eyes.    

“Mother!” He cries.    

“You allow another to _feed_ off your magic, do you have _any_ idea how degrading that is? You are a prince of Asgard, a sorcerer representing both Asgard and Vanaheim, and now you drag our name through the mud! How dare you squander your gifts in this way! Do you have any idea what people would say if they knew what you had done with that girl?” She shouts at him.    

“Mother, I’m _sorry._ ”    

“To allow another to take your seidr, to feed off it during sex, is the most shameful, perverse act. You debase yourself, you debase our house and every gift I have ever given you. I could not be more disappointed in you.” She is shaking with fury. “You will not see that girl again. I do not wish to cause further scandal by publicly banishing her from court, so they will remain here, taking classes with your tutors. You will return to private tutelage under me, and will be confined to our quarters until their departure.” Loki is quietly crying now. “Do you understand?” He nods, not looking at her. “I will come to fetch you tomorrow morning. We can only hope this rumor does not spread farther.” She storms off, leaving the princes alone.    

“Loki-”    

“How _could you?”_ He shrieks. “How could you do this to me?”    

“Loki, I had no choice!” Thor shouts back. “You should have heard what they were saying about you. Fandral and I were walking back from the practice yards and I heard them talking about what you were doing. They were laughing, calling you a _whore_ , and I lost my temper. I struck one of them, and we began fighting and the trainers pulled us apart. When I was dragged before Mother, I had to tell her what happened. I didn’t know she would be this angry, brother, I’m _sorry_.”    

“Get out. Get OUT OF MY ROOM!” He cries. “Leave me ALONE!” Thor leaves him to curl on his bed and cry himself to sleep.  
       

He wakes in the morning, still dressed and on top of the covers, feeling groggy and cried out.   

He remains sullen and quiet through the tense morning lessons. His mother is clearly still angry with him. They snap at each other and otherwise sit in silence while he completes the lessons she sets him. After lunch, which they eat in the common room and not even in the formal dining room with the others, Frigga sighs.    

“We will start your practical lessons with an assessment. I must see if you’ve damaged your seidr before we continue.” She has him run through simple castings, frowning throughout the assessment. “Thankfully, it does not appear that you’ve done any damage, though you are far weaker than you were before this error in judgment.” He drops his head, cowed. “Loki, we have to talk about this. Why, _why_ would you squander your gifts like this? For physical pleasure? I thought I had taught you better than that.”    

“I didn’t mean to,” He says quietly to the floor. “I didn’t know it would go this far.”    

“What do you mean?” He gives in and tells her how it started. When he is done, he wipes a tear off his cheek.    

“I didn’t want her to leave me, I didn’t want to be alone again. She said this was normal, that she had done it with Helgi and I thought if I didn’t, she would leave me and go back to him.” Frigga takes his face between her hands. When Loki looks up at her, there are tears in her eyes.    

“Baby, no,” She cries. “No self-respecting mage would ever do this to another. It’s not normal. This is all my fault, I should have taught you better about this. I had no idea that you would face this temptation so young.” Her breath hitches. “She was using you, dear one.”   

“No, I love her and she-”   

“You may love her, and she may feel something for you. But she just wanted your magic, nothing more, my dear.” 

“No.” He shakes his head. Frigga draws him into her arms, pressing his head into the crook of her neck.    

“She was using you. And I’m so sorry.” Loki lets himself take comfort in her stroking his hair, but quietly, he does not believe her.  
   

He becomes consumed with trying to see Svala again. Just one last time, just to prove that his mother was wrong, that she did truly love him. He acts demur and scolded throughout the week, lulling his mother into feeling like he had been appropriately chastised. On the fourth day since his punishment began, the afternoon is warm and sunny. Frigga lets him go early, exactly as he wanted her to. 

He waits, watching, until he sees the group of mages. Svala is near the back and he’s easily able to grab her arm and pull her behind a high wall.

“Loki!” She gasps. “What are you doing? If they catch us-” 

“I had to see you.” She glances behind her nervously. “Is it true? Did you tell the others what we had done?”   

“Loki, I-”    

“You reacted so violently when you thought I had told my brother. Why would you tell them? Thor said-”

She yanks her arm out of his grip. “Yes, I told them. They knew the whole time.”

“Svala…” Angry tears sting at his eyes. “So, what? You all were just laughing at me, mocking me, from the start?” She looks at him, very serious.

“It wasn’t like that. Not exactly.”

“Then what was it exactly _like?”_ He spits. She sighs.

“Did you think you were the first?”

“I knew about Helgi-”

“Not just me,” Helgi says, coming into view. Svala doesn’t look surprised at his appearance. “She does this everywhere we go. She’s never been so bold as to try and ensnare someone as highborn as the second prince of Asgard before, but I guess she felt like the challenge would be a thrill.”    

“Loki, I am sorry. But you don’t understand, once you’ve tasted the magic…you can’t get enough. You can’t get _satisfaction_ any other way.”

He takes a step back. “That’s why it’s forbidden, isn’t it? Because it’s addictive.”   

“Some cultures say it eats away at the soul, when you consume someone else’s magic. Even worse if you let yours be consumed,” Helgi says. The floor drops out from under him. He reels, the horror of the scheme rapidly becoming apparent. “She’s right though, unless you’ve tasted it yourself, you don’t understand how good it is.” Loki takes another step back. Two sets of arms sudden grab onto him. He turns to see two of the other mages. The fifth seizes his head and presses his hand to Loki’s mouth to silence his choked cry.    

Loki fights against them then, desperately trying to get away, strike out at them with magic, but all his spells sputter and fail. Helgi’s hands start to tear at his clothes. 

“We put up with her plots,” He says, face red with lust. “Because we realized she was right. And she promised to always share once she had lured her prey into her trap.” Loki screams behind the other boy’s hand, beginning to cry. His tunic is wrenched up, the laces on his breeches undone and Helgi’s hand thrusts down the front of his pants. There’s a tugging on his magic, Svala’s power teasing his apart.    

“Shhh,” She coos. “You know it’s easier if you don’t fight it.”    

There’s the sound of a sword being drawn and suddenly an incredible force knocks Helgi aside. The hands release him and he tumbles to the ground, crumpling. When he looks up he sees Thor, gripping Helgi by the throat. Fandral stands over him, sword drawn.    

“Sif has gone for the Einherjar,” Fandral says. “I wouldn’t bother trying to run if I were you.” Lightning strikes a tree in the garden. With shaking fingers, Loki tries to gather his torn clothes to him. Fandral, still holding his sword, removes his cape and hands it to Loki.    

“How dare you _touch_ my brother?” Thor roars as thunder booms again. “You dare lay your hands on a prince of Asgard, I will see you hanged for this!”    

“Don’t!” Svala cries, weeping. “Don’t, it’s not his fault.”    

“You’re right,” Thor says. “It is yours. Did you ever care for him? Or was this a trap all along?” She grits her teeth.

“I did care.”    

Loki has been called the god of lies before, for his own skill at lying and his ability to detect lies in others.    

He lets out a sob when he sees the lie in her words. His mind whirling, magic aching, he can’t deal with what is happening. So he lets himself fall, his form shifting into the shape of a coiled green snake.    

“My prince,” Fandral’s voice comes from far away. “You need to take care of your brother. The Einherjar are on the way, take him back to your mother.” There is the vibration of a body hitting the dirt and then a hand reaching out for him. Loki sniffs at it, confirming it carries the scent of his brother, then slithers up his sleeve and wraps loosely around his neck.    

His mind settles into the simplicity of being a snake. The smells of the palace, the warmth radiating from Thor’s body, gentle fingers running over his scales. Vibrations from his chest when he speaks.    

“What happened? What’s wrong?” His mothers voice. He coils tighter around Thor, not wanting to listen as Thor explains the state he found him in. Smaller hands, stroking his head, down the long body.    

“My dear one,” Frigga says, her voice shaking. “I will not force you, if you are not ready, but when you are, you can change back. I think there is much you need to tell me.” Loki’s not ready and true to her word, Frigga is patient, letting him stay cradled in Thor’s arms in the form of a snake as long as he likes.    

Then he springs from Thor’s arms and changes back. Frigga’s sharp intake of breath tells him all he needs to know about his appearance.    

“She tricked me,” He cries. “She’s done this before. Wherever they go, they trap one of the mages and…and…” He starts to sob then, into his hands. Frigga wraps her arms around him and settles him next to her on the sofa.    

“Thor, could you go fetch your brother some clothes? And summon your father?” Loki shakes his head.    

“No, no, no, he’ll be so angry with me.”   

“He won’t, dear one. No one is angry with you. This wasn’t your fault.” She rocks him gently. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry for how I reacted this week. I thought…” She’s crying too now. “I didn’t realize how she had…” Neither of them want to say it out loud. But Loki has to. He tells her everything. Everything that had happened between them, everything that Helgi had told him. Then she cries, and rocks him, kissing his hair and apologizing over and over again.   

Odin returns with Thor, carrying an armful of Loki’s clothes.    

“How could they do this?” Odin’s broad hand touches his head and Loki flinches. “How dare they?”    

“Husband,” Frigga says softly. “Let’s discuss this in a moment. Thor, can you take your brother to get cleaned up? Is that alright, dear one?” Loki nods, pulling away from her arms.  
   

Thor’s furious energy makes him nervous as he bathes and dresses, but equally he doesn’t want him to leave.    

“You need to calm down, Thor,” Loki says dully, the tears burnt out of him. “I can’t…I can’t take it.” Thor at least makes an effort to tame the storm of his fury. It gets easier when they return to his room, the familiar setting becoming in their own bubble of safety.    

Much later, it’s growing dark and Frigga comes to them. Loki is tucked into Thor’s bed, dozing, but he wakes when she touches his shoulder beneath the covers.    

“When I was very young, still living in my father’s house in Vanaheim,” She says. “A young girl and boy I knew from my studies became involved in a very similar arrangement. But for them, it was a mutual obsession. They grew so codependent on each other, the mix of magic and sex consuming them so much that they would not eat for days at a time. They would not sleep. It tore them apart as it bound them together. Eventually, they were little more than skeletons, wan and drained, unable to do any magic but transfer it between each other. They walked into the sea together, unable to face life any longer. I should have explained to you why I reacted so angrily when I learned what you had been doing.” Her breath hitches. “I feared losing you to such a poisonous love. I did not realize - and I should have - that this arrangement was not consensual.” She pets his hair. “Do you understand now, why I was so afraid and angry? Why you must protect your seidr like your life?” He nods. “You will never have to see any of them ever again, I swear it.” Her voice carries a frightful promise.    

This would not be his last lesson in preserving his seidr, but it is enough for tonight. He falls asleep in Thor’s bed, his brother snoring beside him, and his mother laying over top, holding them together and protecting them like they were still children.    

He tries to put Svala from his mind, but sometimes over the years she comes back to his thoughts, the reminder of the first person to break into his soul.    

He thinks of her often on Sakaar.  
  
  
   

When the Grandmaster grips his hand, kissing his fingers with a glint in his eye, Loki knows _exactly_ what he wants. He forces himself to return the coy smile, add a demure seductiveness to the lines of his posture.    

He will have sex with this petty tyrant, eventually. He’d seen enough of this planet over the last two days, as he slunk around the tower, observing, to know that unless he wanted to end up in the arena, or as food for the scavengers, he would eventually have to sleep with the Grandmaster. He would have to be _intriguing_. He would have to prove his worth to this creature. He could do that.    

After all, who was left to judge him? Perhaps Frigga or Thor could look down at him from Valhalla with scorn, but both were dead, and he was beyond their scolding. Who was left judge him for what he had to do to survive? No one.   

But then he feels something _else_. A curious, probing power caressing his seidr.    

 _No_ , he thinks, smile wavering as he pulled his hand back. _Not that_. The Grandmaster’s expression does not falter.

“Interesting,” He says. “Such an interesting find, you are. Give her ten million units.”   

 

He holds out as long as possible. In his first interaction with the Grandmaster, he knew exactly what the Grandmaster was, and what he wanted from him. Even after all those centuries, the horrid feeling of someone feeding off his magic when he hadn’t wanted it and his mother’s violent reaction still stuck with him. So he refuses the Grandmaster each time he reached for his magic, dancing back and acting like it was all a game. 

He gives up everything else instead. On his back, on his knees, he lets himself be used in every way the Grandmaster desires. He never says no, except to _that_.  
   

Until his second "party."  
   

The Grandmaster was getting restless. The last time he had tried to feed off his magic, to draw upon that connection born out of intimacy and Loki had again rebuffed him, his face had grown twisted with frustration and Loki felt sudden fear.    

“You think you can keep it from me? You think I don’t own even that, I own _everything_ on this planet.” His expression cleared in the next moment and he grinned. “You’ll give up the goods eventually, Lo,” He said with a punishing thrust. Loki tilted his head back, chin raised defiantly.  He would have thought to respond, but luckily for him, the Grandmaster had gagged him hours ago with a scrap of silken cord. He was tied to the bed, spread eagle on his back, in an altogether too vulnerable of a position for this kind of refusal. But Frigga’s warning voice was in his ear and so he gathered his magic into his core and looked up at the Grandmaster with resistance in his eyes.   

The Grandmaster bent down and nibbled on Loki’s earlobe, making him shudder. “They all do.” The Grandmaster pounded into him brutally then, until his movements stuttered and he comes with a cry. “I’ll be _right_ back. Though it might…it might take a little while.” The Grandmaster slid out of him, tossed on a thin robe, entirely ignored Loki’s choked noise of protest, and leaves.    

Time moves strangely on Sakaar and Loki had been drinking, so he’s not sure how long he was left, cold and bound to the bed, as fluids drip out of him and his own erection flags. His eyes stung with humiliated tears.    

 _Is it really worth this?_ He thought at the time. _Is preserving your seidr’s dignity worth your body’s degradation?_ The Grandmaster was right and he knew it. Just as he knew that here he is nothing more than an object to be used and cast off, and if he remained interesting, remained a game, he can stay in the inner circle and avoid death for another day. So, he will have to continue putting up with bodily humiliation to keep entertaining the Grandmaster as long as possible.   

“We’re going to have a party!” The Grandmaster announced brightly when he returned, thin robe still hanging open. Loki paled. His first party had lasted nearly a full day, and by the end he was so drugged and aching and dripping with fluids he had passed out on the floor, left to drag himself back to his quarters on his own when he woke. “Aren’t you excited? I’ve just arranged it all. I’ve got a really _special_ guest coming, you’ll love him.” Loki thought that was unlikely. Most of the Grandmaster’s other ‘special guests’ he had not only loathed, but had fantasized about killing throughout their encounters. “Day after tomorrow. But for now, I think you deserve a reward.” He produced a bottle of oil and drenched his hand. The Grandmaster finally took Loki firmly in hand. “I mean, normally, you wouldn’t deserve a reward.” Loki moaned as he grows hard in the Grandmaster’s grip. “But you’ve just given me such a good idea, for such a _wonderful_ party, so you deserve to feel good. Do you feel good, Lo?” Loki should have felt apprehensive of what these plans were, but the Grandmaster is nothing if not a competent lover and he could do nothing else, but nod and buck his hips up into the Grandmaster’s hand.    

After he came, the Grandmaster untied him, let him remove the gag.    

“Get some rest, Lo,” He said. “I’ll send along some gifts for the party.” He winked.    

“Can’t wait,” Loki croaked.  
   

He bathed for a long time that night, eyes closed as the water cools around him. He knows the Grandmaster has some endgame, some way of getting him to let him have his magic.    

“Why doesn’t he just force me?” He wondered aloud, shifting in the water.    

He knows why the Grandmaster doesn’t just plow through his defenses and take Loki’s magic for himself. The game is too much fun. Breaking him is too much fun.  
   

The night of the party, Loki is mildly surprised when he finds the ‘gifts’ the Grandmaster promised, and sees that they’re merely clothes, in a style not unlike Asgard’s. Leggings, a tunic, and cape, all in dark blue. He searches around the bed, but finds nothing else, no mysterious objects, no jewelry or sex toys. Just the clothes.

He dresses, combs back his hair and pins it in place.    

When he looks in the mirror, he thinks he might actually look like a prince again.    

His apprehension only grows.  
   

“Lo! There you are!” The Grandmaster calls when Loki enters the party. (Escorted there by guards, but the Grandmaster’s surprise at his entrance is all part of the game.)    

“I apologize for my lateness,” He smiles.    

“Nonsense, nonsense, fashionably late, that’s all. Come, come, have a drink.” The Grandmaster pulls him to the bar and signals for the bartender. A tray is brought to him, containing a small bottle of bright blue liquid and two pills. Loki’s heartbeat picks up.    

“Are you-”    

“Uh, uh, Lo, you have to trust me, right? Don’t you trust me?” _You planned this party while you had me tied to a bed and gagged!_ He wants to shriek. _You planned this to steal my magic, of course I don’t trust you!_ His smile is wobbly. He only holds back from screaming because he remembers what happens to people who meltdown at parties.    

The melting part gets a little more literal.    

“I trust you,” He says, voice shockingly steady.    

“That’s it, sweetheart. Open up.” He obeys and the Grandmaster slips the pills onto his tongue. They dissolve, and the Grandmaster holds the bottle of blue liquid to his lips, washing it down. The drink is sickly sweet, and the Grandmaster doesn’t relent until the bottle is drained. “Perfect, just perfect,” He coos. “The red I think. That will give it a nice kick, while we’re waiting for everything to ah, settle in.” Loki is handed a glass and shoved into the crowd to mingle.    

The drugs quickly make their effect clear. A mild sedative, the second perhaps something to heighten sensation. He feels unnervingly calm as he watches the party get under way, heartbeat slowing, even as he knows he should feel _something_. The nerves are still there, but feel far away, his body entirely detached from the emotion. He feels giddy, head light. The blue liquid was alcohol of some kind, he feels just drunk enough to blur the edges of his vision.   

The music turns into a low, throbbing beat as the lights dim a bit. The liquor and drugs flow as the party turns into a writhing mass. He finds glasses and bottles placed in his hands as soon as he empties one and the buzz turns into true intoxication.    

“It’s time to meet my special guest,” The Grandmaster says in his ear as he sways. He is shoved and suddenly, there are arms around him, six or eight, maybe more. He can’t keep track. He tries to wrench his limbs free with a dismayed cry. Appendages tearing at his clothes, wrapping around his limbs. From somewhere far away he hears the Grandmaster clap his hands and laugh with delight.    

He’s overwhelmed and can’t react fast enough with the sedative slowing him down, can’t even struggle. His mind, far fled, wants him to panic, but his heartbeat only lumbers along at that steady pace. He can only lie there, in the arms of some many tentacled _creature_ , as it wraps around him, starts to probe for entrance. Another stranger tears at his clothes, cackling and he wants to shriek _no!_    

Then firmer hands are on his arms, tugging him out of the grip of the monster and pulling him away. Out of the mass of partiers and to a secluded corner.    

“Are you alright?” The new person asks. Loki is shaking hard, dizzy and nauseous.    

“I don’t know,” He says, tongue and lips feeling swollen. He raises his hands and sees thick fluid from the tentacles dripping from his skin. The stranger wipes the gelatinous fluid off with a cloth.    

“I’m Feni,” He says. The man is tall, with short dark hair and deep brown eyes. He is wearing a dark suit, unusual for the fact that he is still clothed so far into the party. Loki’s own gifted clothes are in tatters, soaked with the viscous fluid.   

“Loki,” He says, swaying from the drugs. Possibly some kind of venom in the gel. The sedative works at him, keeping panic distant, forcing his pulse and breathing into a slow and steady rhythm.    

“How long have you been here?”    

“I don’t…a week, perhaps.”    

“I just arrived. A guest. Where are you from, Loki?”    

“Asgard,” The word slips from his lips before he can think better of it. He wishes his head would clear, that he could _think_. Feni’s hands are on his waist.    

“Asgard. Wonderful. Let’s get you some water.”    

It _is_ water, with nothing added, perhaps the first time that’s happened since he arrived on Sakaar. He drinks it down, gulping at the clear fluid in the hopes that it will make the room stop spinning. No such luck. Feni takes the empty glass bottle from his hands.    

“You were quite thirsty. I believe that species dehydrates with it’s fluid, but you should start to feel more normal soon. You’re quite beautiful.”    

“What?” Loki breathes. Feni’s hand is on Loki’s waist again, thumb lightly rubbing a circle. It’s gentle, soft. Loki feels himself give into it. He leans forward.    

Feni’s nose brushes his cheek. His lips are soft and pink. Without thinking, Loki closes the distance and kisses him.    

They kiss long and deep, Feni’s hands running up and down his back. Loki’s long fingers go to his belt.    

“Wait,” Feni says, breaking the kiss. He stops Loki’s hands, holds them lightly between his own. “Let’s just keep doing this for a while. I like kissing you.” Loki flushes.    

They end up on one of the squishy chairs, the bean bags that ring the edges of the room, just kissing. Loki does almost feel normal, though he recognizes the drugs and the venom still flow through his blood. Feni does not rush him. He’s gentle and affectionate and it’s so much _nicer_ than the Grandmaster’s direct, insistent lovemaking. 

He barely realizes when they’re naked, it happens so organically. He’s panting up into Feni’s mouth, aroused and warm.    

“That’s it,” Feni whispers. “Oh, so beautiful.” Loki moans. “That beautiful Asgardian magic.” His eyes fly open.    

“What?” That’s when he feels it. The intimate connection between them, the spark of closeness and romance-   

All due to the mingling of their magics.    

“No-” Loki is silenced by Feni’s lips insistently capturing his. He tries to fight, but his wrists are pinned above his head.    

Magic flows from him, heedless of his attempts to grasp it and hold it to his core. Feni moans.    

“Isn’t it just _wonderful?_ ” The Grandmaster’s voice. Loki lets out a sob. “Feni and his friend Jor - you remember, the one with those _lovely_ tentacles - they work together to just…loosen up some of that magic. Just get you to relax and release some of those pesky inhibitions. A combination of the venom and Feni’s charms. You’re so _uptight_ about it, Lo. You’ve got such _control_ issues, I just _had_ to have them help me show you how _good_ it feels, to just let _go_ sometimes. Feel out of control. Doesn’t it feel good?” Feni climaxes with a groan.    

“A prince of Asgard,” He moans. “What a treat, Grandmaster, I can never repay you for such a honor.” Cold rage rises in him.    

“How _dare_ you!” He shrieks, trying to gather up his clothes when Feni releases him. But then the Grandmaster is on top of him and he knows better than to struggle against him.    

“Sh, sh, sh,” The Grandmaster says. “Don’t you see how good this can feel? How intimate? You were having fun, before you got all this prudery back in your head, weren’t you?” The Grandmaster inhales, shivering, as the magic flows from Loki and into him. “Oh, doesn’t it feel _good?”_    

Loki wants to scream.  
   

He does, later, when he gets back to his room, feeling drained and dirty. He lays on the floor and sobs.    

“I’m sorry, I’m _sorry,_ ” He cries to the ghost of his mother, the illusion of her that stands over him and looks down at him like he is a worm at her feet. His magic, the little that is left of it, is slippery and beyond his control, wild like it has not been since he was a small child. He spends the night on the floor, cowering from nightmare images and his dead family members who look down at him in shame, illusions that his own magic conjures. He feels himself cycle through forms, even his natural shapeshifting out of control.    

Eventually, he settles into the form of a snake, an old, familiar shape, coils himself into a tight ball, and falls asleep.  
   

He wakes in the morning feeling freezing cold, filthy, and violated.  
   

“Lo! Come here, for a moment,” The Grandmaster calls him over. He comes to his side obediently. The Grandmaster wraps an arm around his waist, pulling their bodies flush. “Just a little taste,” He says, breath hot against the skin of his cheek. Loki closes his eyes and lets the Grandmaster in.    

He sucks down his seidr like a cocktail, kissing his cheek roughly when he’s done. The Grandmaster releases Loki, going back to the conversation like nothing had happened. Like Loki is something to be used and discarded.    

A whore. In the end, he had given it all up, and now he finds himself a whore to the whims of this madman.    

He looks out at the glistening lights of the city, chest aching with loneliness and longing, and waits for whatever the Grandmaster needs of him next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not sure if I’ll ever add more to this, but you never know! If further inspiration strikes, for ways that magic could be misused, I may add on, and I have vague ideas about a possible follow-up to this second chapter, but I make no promises!!!
> 
> Thank you for joining me in aggressively ignoring _Infinity War_ and living in AUs. 
> 
> Come follow me on tumblr, until tumblr collapses of course: bereft-of-frogs.tumblr.com
> 
> Happy Friday <3


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